Last night, he had lain awake, trying to remember where he was three years ago. He came up empty and it bothered him. Where the hell was he while she was trying to end her life? Every town/job/apartment seemed interchangeable. Reluctantly, he realised that it wasn’t important where he was. It was over, it had happened and he hadn’t been there.
Then he recalled the argument they had had before she had thrown him out. He had asked about the yoga mat, and she had retaliated, throwing him off-centre. After finding out about her suicide attempt, whatever was going on with the yoga mat seemed minor by comparison. But he still owed her an explanation, one she had every right to ask for.
Realisation hit him square in the gut. A moment of clarity, and the fog lifted.
Follow her lead.
It was no use hiding – all that would do is drive a wedge between them. If she had been strong enough to make it back from the brink after her suicide attempt, he could be strong enough to provide the answers to her questions. He needed to take his cue from her.
“Can I make you something to eat?” Ally asked. “It’s the least I can do after all your help.”
He dragged himself back from the past and into the present. “That’d be great, thanks.”
“Just let me wash up first.”
He stared down at his own grimy hands. “Good point.”
As she left the room, he convinced himself to concentrate more on the present moment. The past was a minefield he was less than qualified to navigate. Here and now he had a better chance of handling, he just had to focus. He leant back against the workbench, trying to relax.
“All yours!” she called.
He made his way down the hall towards the bathroom as Ally disappeared into her bedroom. Plunging his hands under the cold water, he soaped up and rinsed then reached for the hand towel to dry off.
Her bathroom contained more visible signs of her disability than any other room in the house. He had noticed it the other day when he had taken a shower in here, too. Grab bars were everywhere and a shower chair sat in the stall. The vanity unit and basin were lower and recessed, presumably to allow her wheelchair access. He was determined not to let any of this bother him, but it was hard not to miss, just the same.
He exited the bathroom and wandered down the hall to the living room, sinking down into the couch. Yes, things were different, but he would get used to it just like everyone else had. The only difference was he was new to all this, and they’d had more time to adjust.
Behind him, Ally’s bedroom door opened and he stood up, leaving his reflections behind for now.
She had not only removed her apron, but she had changed her top, too. Along with her jeans, she wore an emerald green, short-sleeved t-shirt that brought out the green in her eyes and accentuated all the curves he remembered.
“You look amazing,” he murmured, his eyes roaming lazily over her petite frame.
When they finally came to rest on her face, she was blushing.
Callum slid a six-pack of beer over onto the passenger seat of his car. Staring at it, the strangest feeling of déjà-vu washed over him. Four years ago, before the accident and everything went to hell, he would grab a six-pack and take it over to Jack’s. After Jack disappeared and when things slowly settled into a new normal, he used to do the same thing with Tom. Now, things seemed to have come full circle again. It was Jack he was going to see.
After what had happened yesterday, he was worried about him. He needed to find out where his head was at. It didn’t take a genius to work out that he had to be hurting. That feeling of helplessness was one that left you hollow for a long time afterwards.
It’s what Tom would have wanted.
The thought was accompanied by a deep ache at the back of his throat. He tried to swallow it down as he turned the key in the ignition, pulling out of the parking lot.
He wondered what Tom would’ve made of the whole situation, if he were here. How would he have handled it? Uncomfortably, he realised that it was more than likely that Tom would have placed himself between he and Jack. Having Tom here would’ve also given Jack someone to talk to.
He sat idling at the intersection, indicator blinking left, staring straight ahead while he ran the scenario through his mind.
It was Tom who had made these last few years bearable. He had been the one that Callum had needed the most and he had selflessly given of himself for Callum’s benefit – for everyone’s benefit. Yes, he had lost Tom, but so had Jack. He had a feeling that Jack’s address book wasn’t exactly overflowing.
A car horn jolted him back to the present and he made the turn, an emptiness gnawing at the pit of his stomach.